The cyclist next door

June 13, 2019 § 7 Comments

Evens Stievenart and a South Bay crit specialist who hasn’t ridden his bike for three years, Cat 3 David Perez, are going to attempt the two-man Race Across America this coming Saturday.

Whoa!

I read that a few times and somehow it didn’t add up. Prez is doing RAAM? Last I heard, he was beta-testing for Krispy Kreme’s newest line of ultra-chub, frosting-smeared tummy busters. I’ve never seen Prez pedal for more than an hour without a coffee break, a cigar, and a ribeye … WTF is he doing trying to ride his bike across America with a beast like Evens?

So I did some research, a lot of it, called my sources, checked Wikipedia, talked to Charon, read the race roster and press releases, and carefully combed through Evens’s FB feed and found out that I HAD MADE A MISTAKE. Glad I caught it before I put it in my blog.

Anyway, turns out that Evens is NOT doing RAAM with retired Cat 3 Dave Perez from Jersey, but rather with world class endurance athlete Jean-Luc Perez from France. However, Dave and Jean-Luc have a lot in common, for instance they have the same last name. They are both men. Both reside on Planet Earth. Etc.

But back to Evens and Prez II. They plan to break the two-person RAAM record of six days, ten hours, and 14 billion stabbing sensations of pain throughout the body + Shermer’s Neck. Each of them has followed a meticulous plan of air up tires, ride, eat, sleep, repeat, for many years. Both are talented and thrive on the impossible. You can watch some of their incredible exploits here or here.

However, I don’t want to cover any of that. I want to talk about Evens, who I know personally and have ridden close to for a few seconds on one or two occasions, like the time he had a flat and was sitting on a curb, or the time we ate dinner together. Based on this intimate, insider relationship, I can tell you this: Evens is different. Of course he has all the qualities of a world class cyclist. He is fast, he has endurance, he has won a bunch of big races and etc.

But he stands out for the one quality he lacks: The quality of being a snobby jerk. No one is friendlier or quicker with a smile than Evens. Whether you are a local hacker or a locally deluded Cat 3 or a brokedown old fellow with a leaky prostate, Evens treats you with the exact same degree of kindness, openness, and warmth that he treats everyone. This is one reason why those of us who live in the South Bay kind of take him for granted, because although familiarity doesn’t exactly breed contempt, it does kind of make you forget that he is probably the greatest cyclist you will ever ride with.

Whereas other people are like, “Oh my motherfuckinggodjesuschrist you know Evens Stievenart?” we are more like, “Hey, Evens!” as he pedals by ten miles an hour faster with a wave and a smile.

His decency doesn’t stop with his demeanor. It continues with his participation in local rides. Somehow Evens finds a way to incorporate completely worthless hackfests like NPR, Telo, and the Donut Ride into his training, often by stitching it into the middle of a 190-mile training day. Other times, like the unforgettable week before his assault on the 24 Hours of LeMans, he will invite the entire wankoton to join him on a training ride. That time, he rode for 12 hours straight, averaging 189 gigawatts as local riders took turns sitting on his wheel or taking a pull in the wind for 18 or 19 seconds before they exploded like marshmallows stuffed with dynamite.

Evens knows he’s special. Everyone does. But he has the world-class knack of making you feel that you’re special, like you somehow have a microscopic bit role in his movie, like the thing that you’re doing and the thing that he’s doing although completely different and unrelated, are actually similar. I’ve never seen a rider so good about whom people say so many unanimously good things.

Which isn’t to say that there haven’t been episodes, like the time someone got butthurt because Evens did something or other and it turned into a Facegag drama. There, too, Evens showed his class and his decency. Rather than whipping out the flamethrower, or challenging the wanker to a ride, he apologized for any misunderstanding and humbly went on his way, leaving miles and miles of shredded legs and crushed egos in his wake.

Because at the end of the day, not to mention the beginning and middle, Evens’s kindness and decency stop exactly at the point you want him to get off of his program and onto yours, i.e. slow down just a little bit. Evens doesn’t mind if you ride with him, with this caveat: You’re riding with him, he’s not riding with you. If you’re hankering for a 1-hour stop at Prospect Coffee in Ventura at the turnaround on a 165-mile ride, sorry. He breaks for ten minutes and then leaves. Hope you know the way home.

Racing with Evens reveals an equally ferocious side. He attacks to win, and once he’s off the front, the number of prisoners he takes is zero. There’s no such thing as losing with honor, or racing for second place. The commitment he brings to his training, he brings to racing. Yet for all that, even when at his most earnest, he never resorts to bullshit tactics, wheel chopping, cursing other racers, or wheelsuckery. He’ll win at most costs, but not at all.

I could say more nice things about him, but why? If you ride in the South Bay you’ll meet him, and the experience will far surpass anything written here. If you don’t ride in the South Bay and you’re hearing about him from this blog, you won’t possibly believe that a cyclist could be such a decent human being. As my high school music theory teacher Mr. Strickland used to say, “Consider the source.”

When Evens and Prez II roll out mid-day Saturday from Oceanside, they will have a full team of 16 people to assist them in their quest to be the fastest duo to ever cross the USA on bicycles. Evens’s amazing wife Karina, his biggest admirer Cooper, and his legion of South Bay cycling fans will all be hoping for a successful race, a safe ride, and maybe even a slightly tired Evens with whom we’ll be able to keep up with on his return.

A fella can dream, can’t he?


END

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The cyclist next door

June 13, 2019 § 7 Comments

Evens Stievenart and a South Bay crit specialist who hasn’t ridden his bike for three years, Cat 3 David Perez, are going to attempt the two-man Race Across America this coming Saturday.

Whoa!

I read that a few times and somehow it didn’t add up. Prez is doing RAAM? Last I heard, he was beta-testing for Krispy Kreme’s newest line of ultra-chub, frosting-smeared tummy busters. I’ve never seen Prez pedal for more than an hour without a coffee break, a cigar, and a ribeye … WTF is he doing trying to ride his bike across America with a beast like Evens?

So I did some research, a lot of it, called my sources, checked Wikipedia, talked to Charon, read the race roster and press releases, and carefully combed through Evens’s FB feed and found out that I HAD MADE A MISTAKE. Glad I caught it before I put it in my blog.

Anyway, turns out that Evens is NOT doing RAAM with retired Cat 3 Dave Perez from Jersey, but rather with world class endurance athlete Jean-Luc Perez from France. However, Dave and Jean-Luc have a lot in common, for instance they have the same last name. They are both men. Both reside on Planet Earth. Etc.

But back to Evens and Prez II. They plan to break the two-person RAAM record of six days, ten hours, and 14 billion stabbing sensations of pain throughout the body + Shermer’s Neck. Each of them has followed a meticulous plan of air up tires, ride, eat, sleep, repeat, for many years. Both are talented and thrive on the impossible. You can watch some of their incredible exploits here or here.

However, I don’t want to cover any of that. I want to talk about Evens, who I know personally and have ridden close to for a few seconds on one or two occasions, like the time he had a flat and was sitting on a curb, or the time we ate dinner together. Based on this intimate, insider relationship, I can tell you this: Evens is different. Of course he has all the qualities of a world class cyclist. He is fast, he has endurance, he has won a bunch of big races and etc.

But he stands out for the one quality he lacks: The quality of being a snobby jerk. No one is friendlier or quicker with a smile than Evens. Whether you are a local hacker or a locally deluded Cat 3 or a brokedown old fellow with a leaky prostate, Evens treats you with the exact same degree of kindness, openness, and warmth that he treats everyone. This is one reason why those of us who live in the South Bay kind of take him for granted, because although familiarity doesn’t exactly breed contempt, it does kind of make you forget that he is probably the greatest cyclist you will ever ride with.

Whereas other people are like, “Oh my motherfuckinggodjesuschrist you know Evens Stievenart?” we are more like, “Hey, Evens!” as he pedals by ten miles an hour faster with a wave and a smile.

His decency doesn’t stop with his demeanor. It continues with his participation in local rides. Somehow Evens finds a way to incorporate completely worthless hackfests like NPR, Telo, and the Donut Ride into his training, often by stitching it into the middle of a 190-mile training day. Other times, like the unforgettable week before his assault on the 24 Hours of LeMans, he will invite the entire wankoton to join him on a training ride. That time, he rode for 12 hours straight, averaging 189 gigawatts as local riders took turns sitting on his wheel or taking a pull in the wind for 18 or 19 seconds before they exploded like marshmallows stuffed with dynamite.

Evens knows he’s special. Everyone does. But he has the world-class knack of making you feel that you’re special, like you somehow have a microscopic bit role in his movie, like the thing that you’re doing and the thing that he’s doing although completely different and unrelated, are actually similar. I’ve never seen a rider so good about whom people say so many unanimously good things.

Which isn’t to say that there haven’t been episodes, like the time someone got butthurt because Evens did something or other and it turned into a Facegag drama. There, too, Evens showed his class and his decency. Rather than whipping out the flamethrower, or challenging the wanker to a ride, he apologized for any misunderstanding and humbly went on his way, leaving miles and miles of shredded legs and crushed egos in his wake.

Because at the end of the day, not to mention the beginning and middle, Evens’s kindness and decency stop exactly at the point you want him to get off of his program and onto yours, i.e. slow down just a little bit. Evens doesn’t mind if you ride with him, with this caveat: You’re riding with him, he’s not riding with you. If you’re hankering for a 1-hour stop at Prospect Coffee in Ventura at the turnaround on a 165-mile ride, sorry. He breaks for ten minutes and then leaves. Hope you know the way home.

Racing with Evens reveals an equally ferocious side. He attacks to win, and once he’s off the front, the number of prisoners he takes is zero. There’s no such thing as losing with honor, or racing for second place. The commitment he brings to his training, he brings to racing. Yet for all that, even when at his most earnest, he never resorts to bullshit tactics, wheel chopping, cursing other racers, or wheelsuckery. He’ll win at most costs, but not at all.

I could say more nice things about him, but why? If you ride in the South Bay you’ll meet him, and the experience will far surpass anything written here. If you don’t ride in the South Bay and you’re hearing about him from this blog, you won’t possibly believe that a cyclist could be such a decent human being. As my high school music theory teacher Mr. Strickland used to say, “Consider the source.”

When Evens and Prez II roll out mid-day Saturday from Oceanside, they will have a full team of 16 people to assist them in their quest to be the fastest duo to ever cross the USA on bicycles. Evens’s amazing wife Karina, his biggest admirer Cooper, and his legion of South Bay cycling fans will all be hoping for a successful race, a safe ride, and maybe even a slightly tired Evens with whom we’ll be able to keep up with on his return.

A fella can dream, can’t he?


END

Telo fun and stragety

March 28, 2018 § 2 Comments

Great night of racing at the Telo training crit last night, filled with action and #faketactics. Smasher smashed away from the field about halfway through and was never caught despite the disorganized and haphazard efforts of the chasers, who included Heavy D., Tony Wang, Shiftless, Dr. Whaaaat?, Hair, and me.

Cameo appearances by Prez, Wily Greek, and Junkyard enhanced their own personal fun of getting kicked out the back and fighting the 20 mph headwind alone for an hour.

Team Lizard Collectors used its four riders in the chase to perfectly set up Hair, who rides for Methods to Winning, for the field sprunt, which he easily nailed as the Lizards shouted at each other, watched Heavy D. ride randomly, and vigorously chased down each other’s attacks.

It never occurred to the Lizards to take turns attacking Hair, who happily sat in while watching his chances go from one-in-six to 100%. Smasher was awarded a coveted loaf of bread for his efforts. Hair, who got second, got nothing, and I, who got third, got the best prize of all: A ride home.

END

———————–

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Telo fun and stragety

March 28, 2018 § 2 Comments

Great night of racing at the Telo training crit last night, filled with action and #faketactics. Smasher smashed away from the field about halfway through and was never caught despite the disorganized and haphazard efforts of the chasers, who included Heavy D., Tony Wang, Shiftless, Dr. Whaaaat?, Hair, and me.

Cameo appearances by Prez, Wily Greek, and Junkyard enhanced their own personal fun of getting kicked out the back and fighting the 20 mph headwind alone for an hour.

Team Lizard Collectors used its four riders in the chase to perfectly set up Hair, who rides for Methods to Winning, for the field sprunt, which he easily nailed as the Lizards shouted at each other, watched Heavy D. ride randomly, and vigorously chased down each other’s attacks.

It never occurred to the Lizards to take turns attacking Hair, who happily sat in while watching his chances go from one-in-six to 100%. Smasher was awarded a coveted loaf of bread for his efforts. Hair, who got second, got nothing, and I, who got third, got the best prize of all: A ride home.

END

———————–

Photos, race reports, fresh bread … Please consider subscribing … Click here and select the “subscribe” link in the upper right-hand corner. Thank you!

 

10 cycling moves you might as well go ahead and not try

October 27, 2015 § 13 Comments

I see all kinds of weird shit on the bike. Here’s a list of things that you don’t need to try because they’ve already been done and they suck.

  1. Rear wheel pitch-back. Tomorrow will be a great day not to jump out of the saddle with someone on your wheel and throw your bike back six inches. Go ahead! Don’t try it!
  2. Architectural digest. Next time you’re riding along the crowded bike path, take a couple of hours not to ogle the oceanfront homes. You can’t afford them and you’re about to run over that small child’s testicles. So go ahead! Don’t look!
  3. First thong of spring. She’s not just old enough to be your granddaughter, she is your granddaughter, and someone much younger and virile than you has already staked his claim. So don’t enjoy the view. Look straight ahead.
  4. Uh-oh shift. When the road kicks up, don’t wait until you’re about to tip over before shifting in that horrible grinding way that sounds like someone is emptying a gravel truck. Go ahead! Don’t not shift in advance!
  5. Sticky shower. Next time you gobble a mouthful of sugary energy drink goop, swallow without dribbling a few tablespoons of spray on the rider or bike behind you. Go ahead! Don’t attract so many flies when you ride!
  6. Rubber beggar. You’ve flatted because it was easier and cheaper to put the 12,200-and-first mile on that threadbare tire, and now’s your chance not to beg a spare tire worth $9.99 from a kindly companion. Go ahead! Buy your own fucking tubes and CO2 cartridge!
  7. Window into eternity. Sure those see-through white bib shorts are vintage and covered with a shiny patina. Problem is, so’s your furry bunghole. Go ahead! Don’t cause PTSD a-la-Brad House to whomever’s behind you–put on a pair of undies or better yet, buy a fresh pair of bibs.
  8. It’s only time. Group ride coming up? Try showing up BEFORE the roll-out time rather than 15 minutes AFTER. Go ahead! Show your pals that you know what it means when the big hand is on the twelve and the little hand is on the eight!
  9. Weebles wobble. Galloping into the sprunt with legit riders? Now’s the perfect time to not charge to the front and show your mettle. Go ahead! Stop pedaling and float to the back of the bus and out of the way, where the only person you’re likely to harm is yourself.
  10. Mansplaining. See a new rider who’s in desperate need of your keen advice? Go ahead! STFU, or introduce yourself and try to remember their name. He/she’ll probably be riding you off his/her wheel in a couple of weeks anyway!

END

————————

For $2.99 per month you can subscribe to this blog, get lots of cool tips! You too, Prez! So do a pal a favor! Click here and select the “subscribe” link in the upper right-hand corner. Thank you!

10 cycling moves you might as well go ahead and not try

October 27, 2015 § 13 Comments

I see all kinds of weird shit on the bike. Here’s a list of things that you don’t need to try because they’ve already been done and they suck.

  1. Rear wheel pitch-back. Tomorrow will be a great day not to jump out of the saddle with someone on your wheel and throw your bike back six inches. Go ahead! Don’t try it!
  2. Architectural digest. Next time you’re riding along the crowded bike path, take a couple of hours not to ogle the oceanfront homes. You can’t afford them and you’re about to run over that small child’s testicles. So go ahead! Don’t look!
  3. First thong of spring. She’s not just old enough to be your granddaughter, she is your granddaughter, and someone much younger and virile than you has already staked his claim. So don’t enjoy the view. Look straight ahead.
  4. Uh-oh shift. When the road kicks up, don’t wait until you’re about to tip over before shifting in that horrible grinding way that sounds like someone is emptying a gravel truck. Go ahead! Don’t not shift in advance!
  5. Sticky shower. Next time you gobble a mouthful of sugary energy drink goop, swallow without dribbling a few tablespoons of spray on the rider or bike behind you. Go ahead! Don’t attract so many flies when you ride!
  6. Rubber beggar. You’ve flatted because it was easier and cheaper to put the 12,200-and-first mile on that threadbare tire, and now’s your chance not to beg a spare tire worth $9.99 from a kindly companion. Go ahead! Buy your own fucking tubes and CO2 cartridge!
  7. Window into eternity. Sure those see-through white bib shorts are vintage and covered with a shiny patina. Problem is, so’s your furry bunghole. Go ahead! Don’t cause PTSD a-la-Brad House to whomever’s behind you–put on a pair of undies or better yet, buy a fresh pair of bibs.
  8. It’s only time. Group ride coming up? Try showing up BEFORE the roll-out time rather than 15 minutes AFTER. Go ahead! Show your pals that you know what it means when the big hand is on the twelve and the little hand is on the eight!
  9. Weebles wobble. Galloping into the sprunt with legit riders? Now’s the perfect time to not charge to the front and show your mettle. Go ahead! Stop pedaling and float to the back of the bus and out of the way, where the only person you’re likely to harm is yourself.
  10. Mansplaining. See a new rider who’s in desperate need of your keen advice? Go ahead! STFU, or introduce yourself and try to remember their name. He/she’ll probably be riding you off his/her wheel in a couple of weeks anyway!

END

————————

For $2.99 per month you can subscribe to this blog, get lots of cool tips! You too, Prez! So do a pal a favor! Click here and select the “subscribe” link in the upper right-hand corner. Thank you!

Mr. Leadout

August 25, 2015 § 9 Comments

We used to call him “Prez.” Or “Frankendave.” Or “Wanker.” Or just plain “Get the fuck away from me for fuck’s sake!”

But not any more.

After his stellar, superhuman performance at the CBR Crit and Fake Wanky Monopoly Money Primefest, our very own South Bay bomber from Puerto Rico redefined human performance on a bike.

Henceforth he shall always be referred to simply as “Leadout.”

It all started like it always does. When Leadout asked his team the race plan, they gave the usual answer: “Don’t get near me or I’ll fucking kill you.”

“Hang out at the back until one to go, then hang out there for two more laps.”

“Who are you and why are you wearing our team kit?”

But Leadout wasn’t deterred because he never is. It was late August, when most racers, having begun in January, had already hung it up for the year, but not Leadout. He was peaking for the last two parking lot crits of the year and he was going to deliver Team Boss, the fastest human in America not seated in an airplane, to victory.

Here is the video of this crushing, devastating performance by Leadout which gifted Team Boss with the win. Since it is one of the most complex and amazing sprint performances in cycling history, it requires detailed narration. The genius of Leadout isn’t always clear without a roadmap.

00:18 Terrible music coming into Turn 4 with one lap to go. Red Socks is the first designated man in Team Boss’s leadout train.

00:22 Scrum tightens into and out of Turn 4. Everyone wants to be near the front but not on it. Red Socks begins to assume the position.

00:23 Leadout is on the left of your screen, squeezed between bright green bike on the right and black kit on the left. Overlapped wheels don’t scare Leadout. Leadout’s teammate Orange Bike, on right of green bike, is the No. 2 designated pilot fish in Team Boss’s leadout train.

00:27 Still kind of scrum-ish as the sharp end of the peloton approaches the start/finish and the bell signals one lap to go.

00:32 Red Socks to the right, and 300-year-old Bustemup Bart in the bright green bike on the left, with a giant, swollen blue whale in the slot that looks suspiciously like a race promoter we all know and love.

00:44 Red Socks punches through on the outside. It’s showtime, and Orange Bike slots in behind him, assuming the position for real.

00:47 Just off Orange Bike and slightly to the right, Team Boss slots in. The trifecta is now complete. Red Socks will accelerate to terminal velocity, Orange Bike will drag the Team Boss grenade through the final corner, and it will detonate across the line leaving vitrified dreams of glory in its wake.

1:07 They’re approaching Turn 3. Team Boss is on the right, tucked in behind Orange Bike. The cameraman, Sausage, is wondering what Debbie’s going to say when he breaks the same shoulder on the same course on the same Turn 3 in the first race back since his surgery.

1:09 Red Socks explodes as they approach Turn 3, about to jam through the turn and deposit Orange Bike for the final glory pull.

1:18 BUT WHAT’S THIS? LOOK, THERE ON THE RIGHT! IT’S A BIRD! IT’S A PLANE! IT’S A ROCKETSHIP! IT’S A WANKER! NOOOOOOO …….. It’s Leadout!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

1:19 Leadout explodes up the right hand side coming into Turn 3 with Team Boss on his wheel! Well, Team Boss isn’t technically on Leadout’s wheel, it’s Sausage, the guy with the camera. But it’s the thought that counts.

1:21 Team Boss is off to the right. “WTF?”

1:22 Leadout has blasted up the side and created a perfect, wide-open alley for Sausage and a handful of other fresh riders, all glued up to Leadout’s rear wheel.

1:24 Coming through Turn 4 Leadout is fourth wheel and Sausage is now neatly tucked in behind him. Too bad ol’ Team Boss missed his own train, heh, heh. Shoulda checked the fuggin’ schedule!

1:45 Orange Bike is approaching Turn 4 at warp speed. The victory train has derailed. Leadout has led out five fresh riders and Team Boss is nowhere in sight.

1:53 But wait! Team Boss isn’t done! After the fantastic setup by Leadout, he’s not about to waste his chance! Team Boss, despite being boxed in, punches a hole through the concrete wall with his fist! Time to thank Leadout for all his hard work bringing those five, no six, fresh guys through the last turn and getting rid of pesky teammates Red Socks and Orange Bike.

1:54 Five riders, including camera-ready Sausage, gallop to the line! It’s only three hundred yards away! Bustemup Bart is going to win for the first time since they invented the seed drill! All of Leadout’s great work leading out other team’s riders is paying off! Sucks to be you, Team Boss!

1:57 Out of gas, out of real estate, out of cards, and out of luck, Team Boss decides, with only two hundred yards left to catch five fresh riders who have almost crossed the line, that it’s time to pedal his bike because even with a super pro leadout like the one he got from Leadout, it ain’t over, baby, ’til it’s over.

2:01 Team Boss nails it at the line, and after the race throws his arms around Leadout in a big friendly hug that looks like a punch to the face. Couldn’t have done it without Leadout!

END

————————

For $2.99 per month you can subscribe to this blog and learn how to set up a teammate. Click here and select the “subscribe” link in the upper right-hand corner. Thank you!

Mr. Leadout

August 25, 2015 § 9 Comments

We used to call him “Prez.” Or “Frankendave.” Or “Wanker.” Or just plain “Get the fuck away from me for fuck’s sake!”

But not any more.

After his stellar, superhuman performance at the CBR Crit and Fake Wanky Monopoly Money Primefest, our very own South Bay bomber from Puerto Rico redefined human performance on a bike.

Henceforth he shall always be referred to simply as “Leadout.”

It all started like it always does. When Leadout asked his team the race plan, they gave the usual answer: “Don’t get near me or I’ll fucking kill you.”

“Hang out at the back until one to go, then hang out there for two more laps.”

“Who are you and why are you wearing our team kit?”

But Leadout wasn’t deterred because he never is. It was late August, when most racers, having begun in January, had already hung it up for the year, but not Leadout. He was peaking for the last two parking lot crits of the year and he was going to deliver Team Boss, the fastest human in America not seated in an airplane, to victory.

Here is the video of this crushing, devastating performance by Leadout which gifted Team Boss with the win. Since it is one of the most complex and amazing sprint performances in cycling history, it requires detailed narration. The genius of Leadout isn’t always clear without a roadmap.

00:18 Terrible music coming into Turn 4 with one lap to go. Red Socks is the first designated man in Team Boss’s leadout train.

00:22 Scrum tightens into and out of Turn 4. Everyone wants to be near the front but not on it. Red Socks begins to assume the position.

00:23 Leadout is on the left of your screen, squeezed between bright green bike on the right and black kit on the left. Overlapped wheels don’t scare Leadout. Leadout’s teammate Orange Bike, on right of green bike, is the No. 2 designated pilot fish in Team Boss’s leadout train.

00:27 Still kind of scrum-ish as the sharp end of the peloton approaches the start/finish and the bell signals one lap to go.

00:32 Red Socks to the right, and 300-year-old Bustemup Bart in the bright green bike on the left, with a giant, swollen blue whale in the slot that looks suspiciously like a race promoter we all know and love.

00:44 Red Socks punches through on the outside. It’s showtime, and Orange Bike slots in behind him, assuming the position for real.

00:47 Just off Orange Bike and slightly to the right, Team Boss slots in. The trifecta is now complete. Red Socks will accelerate to terminal velocity, Orange Bike will drag the Team Boss grenade through the final corner, and it will detonate across the line leaving vitrified dreams of glory in its wake.

1:07 They’re approaching Turn 3. Team Boss is on the right, tucked in behind Orange Bike. The cameraman, Sausage, is wondering what Debbie’s going to say when he breaks the same shoulder on the same course on the same Turn 3 in the first race back since his surgery.

1:09 Red Socks explodes as they approach Turn 3, about to jam through the turn and deposit Orange Bike for the final glory pull.

1:18 BUT WHAT’S THIS? LOOK, THERE ON THE RIGHT! IT’S A BIRD! IT’S A PLANE! IT’S A ROCKETSHIP! IT’S A WANKER! NOOOOOOO …….. It’s Leadout!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

1:19 Leadout explodes up the right hand side coming into Turn 3 with Team Boss on his wheel! Well, Team Boss isn’t technically on Leadout’s wheel, it’s Sausage, the guy with the camera. But it’s the thought that counts.

1:21 Team Boss is off to the right. “WTF?”

1:22 Leadout has blasted up the side and created a perfect, wide-open alley for Sausage and a handful of other fresh riders, all glued up to Leadout’s rear wheel.

1:24 Coming through Turn 4 Leadout is fourth wheel and Sausage is now neatly tucked in behind him. Too bad ol’ Team Boss missed his own train, heh, heh. Shoulda checked the fuggin’ schedule!

1:45 Orange Bike is approaching Turn 4 at warp speed. The victory train has derailed. Leadout has led out five fresh riders and Team Boss is nowhere in sight.

1:53 But wait! Team Boss isn’t done! After the fantastic setup by Leadout, he’s not about to waste his chance! Team Boss, despite being boxed in, punches a hole through the concrete wall with his fist! Time to thank Leadout for all his hard work bringing those five, no six, fresh guys through the last turn and getting rid of pesky teammates Red Socks and Orange Bike.

1:54 Five riders, including camera-ready Sausage, gallop to the line! It’s only three hundred yards away! Bustemup Bart is going to win for the first time since they invented the seed drill! All of Leadout’s great work leading out other team’s riders is paying off! Sucks to be you, Team Boss!

1:57 Out of gas, out of real estate, out of cards, and out of luck, Team Boss decides, with only two hundred yards left to catch five fresh riders who have almost crossed the line, that it’s time to pedal his bike because even with a super pro leadout like the one he got from Leadout, it ain’t over, baby, ’til it’s over.

2:01 Team Boss nails it at the line, and after the race throws his arms around Leadout in a big friendly hug that looks like a punch to the face. Couldn’t have done it without Leadout!

END

————————

For $2.99 per month you can subscribe to this blog and learn how to set up a teammate. Click here and select the “subscribe” link in the upper right-hand corner. Thank you!

Race ready

June 15, 2015 § 14 Comments

When people sniffing around the edges of competitive cycling ask me about bike racing, I always tell them this: Preparation is key.

Not, of course, that there are any such people, but if there were that is what I would tell them.

And of all the critical preparations, none is more important than nutrition. Since Mrs. WM abandoned me for a 3-month orgy of Japanese food and home cooking courtesy of her mom, the world’s best cook in a nation of great cooks, I have been making do admirably because nutritional preparation is key to major races like the CBR crit #6.

This is a major race even though, despite diligently promoting the hell out of it and shaking the crust off my teammates to get them to show up, CHRIS LOTTS STILL HASN’T COMPED A SINGLE FUGGIN’ RACE ENTRY.

Anyway, I wanted to do well at this race and so I prepared nutritionally for it. However, the day before the race we were running low on food, well, actually we’ve been running low on food for a long time now since I’ve decided to boycott the supermarket until we eat through the stores that MRS. WM HAD LAID UP IN ANTICIPATION OF THREE NUCLEAR WINTERS.

This isn’t a contradiction; we are running low on fresh foods but not on flour, for example. You can’t have enough flour, and we don’t not have enough.

A flour for all seasons.

A flour for all seasons.

So sure, it’s going to be hard to eat all that flour, but not as hard as it will be to eat the twelve large cans of salt. So getting ready for the race meant preparing some flour and salt. Fortunately, the one thing Mrs. WM had left an ample supply of was Nestle chocolate chips. She bakes cookies once every three years, so we had twelve bags of chocolate chips in case someone needed to get diabetes over the weekend.

“Honey,” I said before she left, “please don’t go to the store and buy anything. Whatever it is, we have enough.”

“Okay,” she said.

Later that afternoon she came in, loaded down with grocery bags. “Did you just go grocery shopping?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“I thought I asked you not to.”

“I didn’t buy any ‘food’ food.”

“What did you buy?”

“Toilet paper and chocolate chips.”

“But we already have twelve bags and I’m on a diet.”

She smiled and unloaded the bags.

The night before the race I took out the flour and butter and sugar and salt and baking soda and vanilla extract and chocolate chips and pecans, and I made a giant bowl of cookie dough for dinner. It was getting late and I didn’t feel like cooking because I wasn’t sure how the oven worked so I took out the peanut butter and Nutella jars and the remainder of the ice cream and put it all on top of the cookie dough and ate a couple of big bowls and drank some milk and a lot of coffee and then I went to bed.

The next morning I didn’t feel very good but I felt worse after breakfast, which was more cookie dough. For vegetables I sauteed an onion and some garlic and mixed it with Cheerios because I’d drunk all the milk the night before.

At the bike race I saw Prez, the most well prepared bike racer in history. He always gets to the race early to warm up, and this time was no exception. He’d arrived eight whole minutes before the race started, which is a long time for him. He was in a great mood. “Hey, Wanky,” he said. “Guess what?”

“What?”

“I forgot my bike bag and don’t have any shoes. And my bike.”

Pretty soon twelve people were scurrying around to find him a pair of shoes. No one would loan him any because his foot fungus is pretty infamous, but a Cat 5 who didn’t know any better offered up a pair of New Bongasnoop Xtra Race Shoes. They were four sizes too big but Prez didn’t care.

“Hey,” he shouted to no one in particular, “does anyone have a helmet I can borrow?”

Someone did, but they knew that no helmet on Prez’s head is safe, so we ended up going up and down the line of parked cars trying to find one that was unlocked. We did and borrowed a really nice $400 POC aero helmet. “I’ll put it back as soon as I’m finished,” Prez said as we checked to make sure the sheriff patrol wasn’t around.

Back at the starting line with one minute to go Prez yelled to the onlookers. “Does anyone have a bike? I forgot my bike.”

He was in fact the only fully kitted out, aero-helmeted guy on the line without a bike. The same Cat 5 guy who just wanted to be nice gave Prez his $10,000 carbon bike with full carbon wheels and 100% carbon. “Be careful!” he said.

“That’s my middle name!” Prez said, pleased that he’d be able to wreck someone else’s machine this weekend.

With two laps to go Prez, who is the key lead-out man for Surf City’s train, roared up through the pack to take control of the lead-out and give his boss, Charon Smith, another lightning bolt pull to victory. “Dammit, Prez!” Charon shouted, “you’re doing it again!”

Prez had boxed in his boss, forced him into the curb, and was about to take out his front wheel. “Sorry!” he said, but not before the sound of screaming, cursing, and twelve broken bikes rent the air. A loose wheel arced overhead, temporarily blotting out the sun. Prez stepped on the gas, took out four people, ran over a pylon, hit a small child on the sidewalk, bounced off a tree, and flipped into a tent. The poor Cat 5’s bike shattered into a billion pieces at the poor kid’s feet.

Prez staggered to his feet, shading his eyes to watch Charon hit the jets and win his 67th victory of the season. As the poor Cat 5 cried inconsolably, sobbing about the five years it had taken him to save up for his bike, Prez stripped off the fungal shoes and patted him on the back. “Don’t worry sonny,” he said, “next time you just need to be a a little bit better prepared.”

END

————————

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Race ready

June 15, 2015 § 14 Comments

When people sniffing around the edges of competitive cycling ask me about bike racing, I always tell them this: Preparation is key.

Not, of course, that there are any such people, but if there were that is what I would tell them.

And of all the critical preparations, none is more important than nutrition. Since Mrs. WM abandoned me for a 3-month orgy of Japanese food and home cooking courtesy of her mom, the world’s best cook in a nation of great cooks, I have been making do admirably because nutritional preparation is key to major races like the CBR crit #6.

This is a major race even though, despite diligently promoting the hell out of it and shaking the crust off my teammates to get them to show up, CHRIS LOTTS STILL HASN’T COMPED A SINGLE FUGGIN’ RACE ENTRY.

Anyway, I wanted to do well at this race and so I prepared nutritionally for it. However, the day before the race we were running low on food, well, actually we’ve been running low on food for a long time now since I’ve decided to boycott the supermarket until we eat through the stores that MRS. WM HAD LAID UP IN ANTICIPATION OF THREE NUCLEAR WINTERS.

This isn’t a contradiction; we are running low on fresh foods but not on flour, for example. You can’t have enough flour, and we don’t not have enough.

A flour for all seasons.

A flour for all seasons.

So sure, it’s going to be hard to eat all that flour, but not as hard as it will be to eat the twelve large cans of salt. So getting ready for the race meant preparing some flour and salt. Fortunately, the one thing Mrs. WM had left an ample supply of was Nestle chocolate chips. She bakes cookies once every three years, so we had twelve bags of chocolate chips in case someone needed to get diabetes over the weekend.

“Honey,” I said before she left, “please don’t go to the store and buy anything. Whatever it is, we have enough.”

“Okay,” she said.

Later that afternoon she came in, loaded down with grocery bags. “Did you just go grocery shopping?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“I thought I asked you not to.”

“I didn’t buy any ‘food’ food.”

“What did you buy?”

“Toilet paper and chocolate chips.”

“But we already have twelve bags and I’m on a diet.”

She smiled and unloaded the bags.

The night before the race I took out the flour and butter and sugar and salt and baking soda and vanilla extract and chocolate chips and pecans, and I made a giant bowl of cookie dough for dinner. It was getting late and I didn’t feel like cooking because I wasn’t sure how the oven worked so I took out the peanut butter and Nutella jars and the remainder of the ice cream and put it all on top of the cookie dough and ate a couple of big bowls and drank some milk and a lot of coffee and then I went to bed.

The next morning I didn’t feel very good but I felt worse after breakfast, which was more cookie dough. For vegetables I sauteed an onion and some garlic and mixed it with Cheerios because I’d drunk all the milk the night before.

At the bike race I saw Prez, the most well prepared bike racer in history. He always gets to the race early to warm up, and this time was no exception. He’d arrived eight whole minutes before the race started, which is a long time for him. He was in a great mood. “Hey, Wanky,” he said. “Guess what?”

“What?”

“I forgot my bike bag and don’t have any shoes. And my bike.”

Pretty soon twelve people were scurrying around to find him a pair of shoes. No one would loan him any because his foot fungus is pretty infamous, but a Cat 5 who didn’t know any better offered up a pair of New Bongasnoop Xtra Race Shoes. They were four sizes too big but Prez didn’t care.

“Hey,” he shouted to no one in particular, “does anyone have a helmet I can borrow?”

Someone did, but they knew that no helmet on Prez’s head is safe, so we ended up going up and down the line of parked cars trying to find one that was unlocked. We did and borrowed a really nice $400 POC aero helmet. “I’ll put it back as soon as I’m finished,” Prez said as we checked to make sure the sheriff patrol wasn’t around.

Back at the starting line with one minute to go Prez yelled to the onlookers. “Does anyone have a bike? I forgot my bike.”

He was in fact the only fully kitted out, aero-helmeted guy on the line without a bike. The same Cat 5 guy who just wanted to be nice gave Prez his $10,000 carbon bike with full carbon wheels and 100% carbon. “Be careful!” he said.

“That’s my middle name!” Prez said, pleased that he’d be able to wreck someone else’s machine this weekend.

With two laps to go Prez, who is the key lead-out man for Surf City’s train, roared up through the pack to take control of the lead-out and give his boss, Charon Smith, another lightning bolt pull to victory. “Dammit, Prez!” Charon shouted, “you’re doing it again!”

Prez had boxed in his boss, forced him into the curb, and was about to take out his front wheel. “Sorry!” he said, but not before the sound of screaming, cursing, and twelve broken bikes rent the air. A loose wheel arced overhead, temporarily blotting out the sun. Prez stepped on the gas, took out four people, ran over a pylon, hit a small child on the sidewalk, bounced off a tree, and flipped into a tent. The poor Cat 5’s bike shattered into a billion pieces at the poor kid’s feet.

Prez staggered to his feet, shading his eyes to watch Charon hit the jets and win his 67th victory of the season. As the poor Cat 5 cried inconsolably, sobbing about the five years it had taken him to save up for his bike, Prez stripped off the fungal shoes and patted him on the back. “Don’t worry sonny,” he said, “next time you just need to be a a little bit better prepared.”

END

————————

For $2.99 per month you can subscribe to this blog and learn how Prez does it. Then do the opposite. Click here and select the “subscribe” link in the upper right-hand corner. Thank you!

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